


Save a Life, Donate Dignity

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Ben is Dean's son, Benny is so Done, Cute, Donation Clinic, Driver Dean, Fluff, Frazzled Dean, Helpful Castiel (Supernatural), Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Nurse Castiel, Phlebotomist Benny, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 03:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean sighs. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I should’ve called—”“He can have my friend’s appointment,” a second voice chimes in. “Kelly Kline. She texted to let me know she won’t be making it in today for her donation.”Dean snaps his head to the man standing next to him. He’s a couple inches shorter, but tanner and wiry, especially in his hands. One grips the counter, the other holding Dean’s driver’s license. When he turns to meet Dean’s eyes, blue mixes with his green to make a yellow that warms his chest. And when their fingers touch, Dean forgets there was a storm brewing inside there a few seconds ago.





	Save a Life, Donate Dignity

“Oh God. I’m sorry. Just…” Dean bends down to retrieve his paperwork, along with all his IDs and year-old receipts. When he resurfaces, he faces the woman at the counter with an apologetic smile. “Um. Oh. Right.” He hands her everything.

The woman narrows her thin glasses. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Oh. Um.”

“You have to have an appointment.”

Dean sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I should’ve called—”

“He can have my friend’s appointment,” a second voice chimes in. “Kelly Kline. She texted to let me know she won’t be making it in today for her donation.”

Dean snaps his head to the man standing next to him. He’s a couple inches shorter, but tanner and wiry, especially in his hands. One grips the counter, the other holding Dean’s driver’s license. When he turns to meet Dean’s eyes, blue mixes with his green to make a yellow that warms his chest. And when their fingers touch, Dean forgets there was a storm brewing inside there a few seconds ago.

“I, uh…. Thanks.” Dean only briefly tears his eyes away to hand the woman his ID.

The man nods. “You’re welcome. She’ll be happy to know someone made up for her absence.”

“5:00pm for Dean Winchester. Have a seat please.”

Dean retrieves everything from the stoic receptionist and only starts to organize it when he finds an empty seat. Luckily it’s next to the same man, who certainly makes up for his crap day. Not only did he have two back-to-back no-shows, he spilt his afternoon coffee all over the leather bench in his ’67 Chevy, and then was called back home after Ben went into anaphylactic shock.

Ben is okay. He just wanted to see his dad. His cousin Christian, however, won’t be after Dean gets a moment with him. Everyone knows Snickers has peanuts.

Dean turns back to the man with a forced smile. He smiles back. God, he just wants today to be over.

“Is everything okay?”

Dean opens and closes his mouth as a shaky laugh escapes him. He starts over again. “Yeah. It’s just… been a long day. Normally right now I’d be at home, messing around on my guitar.”

“What do you like to play?”

“Anything before ’79. Led Zeppelin, Bad Company, Bob Seger, Bon Jovi…” Dean laughs as he bites his lip. “You weren’t supposed to hear that last one. Jovi was ’83. ‘s a guilty pleasure.”

“My older brother has your taste,” the man replies. “Except most of his bands are a few years past your sell-by date. Phil Collins, Boy George, The Smiths, Asia…”

“I’ll give him a pass on Asia,” says Dean. “What about you? What’s your poison?”

“Honestly? Whatever I’m feeling. Right now, it’s the theme song from _The Greatest American Hero_.”

Dean nods carefully, but chuckles in doing so. “Also a show past my sell-by date, but Robert Culp was one of my first sexual awakenings. _The Raiders,_ man.”

The man smiles fondly. “I think you’re the first man I’ve met who likes cowboys outside of the football team.”

“I _love_ cowboys,” Dean emphasizes with wide, animated eyes, “I’ve seen _every_ western film. Unpopular opinion, but I prefer Clint Eastwood to John Wayne. Even the monkey movies, they had a certain…” Dean cuts himself off with a curt laugh. “Sorry. This is why my brother regrets inviting me to his house parties.”

The man tilts his head, but not in the way Dean expects. He looks more confused than critical. “Why are you apologizing? If it’s something you love, embrace it.”

Dean removes his hand he didn’t know was behind his stubbly neck. “I… okay,” he replies dumbly.

“Castiel!” a tech calls out. Dean doesn’t know how she got that on the nose. Louis is one thing. So is Joaquin, Zooey with an extra ‘o’ and even Geoffrey is pretty ridiculous. But _Castiel?_ Whose parents would be crazy enough to—?

The man he’s been talking to stands up.

Oh.

“See you on the other side… partner.”

The guy even friggin’ _winks._ Why. Why would he intentionally sabotage Dean’s chances to donate plasma today?

Dean wills his heart rate to go down with steady breaths, but now that he has both Robert Culp and Castiel on his mind, he’s not sure how long that’ll last, because before he knows it, he’s called up.

Just his luck, after a brief screening, he’s seated next to Castiel again.

The phlebotomist that hooks him up is giving him some standard form of instructions, but Dean’s not hearing a word of it. Not when Castiel is tilting his invisible cowboy hat towards him. Dean can’t tell if he’s resorted to using his love (or, if you’re his brother Sam, your opinion of it goes as far as a fetish) of all things cowboy against him, or if he’s trying to come out to Dean as a closeted cowboy.

He does catch the tail end of it, which is: “I’ll be back every ten to fifteen minutes to check in on you. If you need me before then, especially if you feel like you’re havin’ a reaction, flag one of us down.”

“Thanks,” Dean says, leaving the two to sink into an oddly comfortable silence for a solid five minutes. “Is this your first time too?”

“No, no,” Castiel reassures, “I try to donate as often as I can, if work allows.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an NNP, a neonatal nurse practitioner. I aid newborns with complications postpartum like birth defects, prematurity, infections... I also consult with the parents in how to go about treatment and how to cope with their child having these different ailments. It’s not easy for them to take in.”

Dean throws his head back. “That’s, um… that’s amazing. I mean, that can’t be easy to see those kids from your end either.”

“It’s especially hard when you can’t save a child,” Castiel says. “But every child I’ve ever cared for in the nursery has been a blessing in my life, for sure. Making them smile is always my greatest feat. What about you?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Dean laughs. “Well, my job certainly isn’t as admirable as yours. I drive for Lyft full-time. At least until I can get my EMT certification.”

“What’re you talking about not admirable? People depend on you as a taxi service and you’re there. It’s definitely good practice to be an EMT. I have a couple friends who are techs. It takes someone with a strong stomach and a flexible sleep schedule to do that.”

“I have a six-year-old who’s thrown up everything imaginable and would refuse to fall asleep when we forgot his music box at his grandma’s. I can handle pretty much anything.”

Castiel laughs at that. Dean likes his laugh. He also likes the wrinkles around the ends of his stubbled mouth and eyes that seem to smile at him too.

“That and he goes full-on JK Simmons in _Whiplash_ about my rhythm when I’m playing guitar.”

“A six-year-old with rhythm? Color me impressed. He must get that from someone.”

“His mom is a concert pianist and his grandma was the soprano in a Patsy Cline tribute band.”

“I stand corrected.”

“What about you? Do you have any kids?”

“I do... well, I _claim_ to. He’s not my son by blood. His mom, Kelly, and I go way back. Her son was actually a patient at my hospital when he was a newborn. Not to turn this into one of those highly romanticized, depressing YA novels before he’s even of age, but Jack was born with moderate to severe hemophilia. Basically, he needs this stuff to live an active social life.” Castiel gestures to his hooked up arm.

“How so?”

“Well, Jack bleeds longer than most kids who get normal papercuts or general nicks because his blood doesn’t clot,” he explains. “So for bigger cuts, it can mean hospitalization if he’s not careful. After graduating from a bike, Jack wanted to learn how to ride a skateboard for his tenth birthday. Kelly barely had the heart to tell him he couldn’t. The poor kid just wanted to pick a flower for his mom last year and had to get admitted for stitches.”

“That’s... really great.” Dean’s mind does a furious backpedal upon hearing those last few words escape him. “Uh. Not. You know, him having...” Dean shakes his head. “Let me start over.”

“You’re fine,” Castiel laughs, “I went full-on depressing, romanticized YA novel anyway.”

“It’s just... weird,” he settles. “You know, to think... how many moments like that you take for granted as a parent. You don’t really think of those things as vital parts of growing up.”

“Yeah, Jack can fall. It just takes him longer than most kids to get back up. I just don’t want that life for any other kids if I can avoid it.”

“I think it’s great, what you’re doing. I’m just doing this for extra cash.”

“You say it’s for extra cash, but really you’re doing it for Ben, right? To help support him? Being a single parent can’t be easy, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, then more assuredly: “yeah, I guess I am. You’re right. He’s not gonna be featured in any depressing, romanticized YA novel anytime soon, but Ben still needs support.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Dean.”

Dean’s been told as much, but coming from Castiel, he actually starts to believe it.

“Wait. Did you assume I was a single parent?”

 Castiel smiles sheepishly. “More like hoped.”

“Speaking of hard, um... sir. Sir.” He manages to flag down the phlebotomist from earlier. He’s hefty everywhere except his light blue eyes. “Yeah, uh, I think I may be having one of those reactions the nurse mentioned. I’m feeling kinda tingly?”

The phlebotomist nods. “And you look like you’re burning up. You feelin’ flushed too, Chief?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Well the nurse is finishing up with someone else, but what you can do now to minimize these symptoms is t’stop ogling the gentleman next t’ya like a half-price steak.”

Dean snaps his mouth as quick as he opens it.

Castiel turns a light shade of red too, but doesn’t bring it up with a phlebotomist.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Dean says. “I’m not a full-time parent, but I do have Ben for the summers. So I’ll graciously, although temporarily, accept the single parent title.” Dean glances back over to the grumpy phlebotomist down the aisle and leans in as far as he can, as if telling Castiel a secret. “But let’s not get hung up on semantics right now. We’ll talk outside?”

Castiel gives him a smile that counteracts the cold saline coursing through his veins. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

 

Dean signs up for a membership at the clinic the following day.

 

 


End file.
